Small Miracles
by Beth Arritt
Summary: Sam tries to put pain behind her at Christmas.


As always, all characters belong to CS, S/MP, NBC and the incredible cast and crew of Profiler. I'm just borrowing, I promise not to hurt them or make any money off of them, but comments to [betha@gwis2.circ.gwu.edu][1] are welcome.  
****

**Small Miracles  
**by Beth Arritt  
_Copyright 1997_

* * *

Thank God for bars.

I suppose it's sad that I sit here on Christmas night and the only thing I can think to thank God for is a bar, but since it's the only comfort I have today, I'm grateful for it. Christmas is the one time I invariably feel sorry for myself because what family I did have is lost to me forever. The good ones are dead and the bad ones might as well be. Since it's Christmas I keep myself from actually wishing them dead. 

I should probably slow down on the alcohol, before I start reminiscing. Instead, I ask for another drink. While I'm waiting, I look around the bar. I've spent several Christmases here, and see a few familiar faces. It's become my own little Christmas tradition, and apparently I'm not the only one. We're like our own little  
dysfunctional family--we get together each Christmas to sit around, drink and ignore each other. It's the unwritten law; if you come here on Christmas you leave everyone else alone and they afford you the same courtesy. 

Just after the bartender hands me my drink, the law gets broken as someone sits down next to me, invading my personal space. I look up to protest, but when I see Sam, my look of anger is replaced by one of surprise. "I must have had more than I thought."

She rewards me with a weak version of her normal ironic smile. "Why is that?"

"Because you look just like Sam Waters, but she'd never be in a place like this on Christmas unless someone had been killed." I look around. "I don't see any dead bodies."

The smile widens a bit and looks even more normal. "No one died. I came here looking for you."

"How did you know where to find me?"

She shrugged. "I'm psychic."

"That would explain a lot." I play with my glass for a moment. "Why'd you come looking for me on Christmas? I would think you'd want to spend every minute with Chloe."

"Chloe woke up at five this morning. She was completely exhausted by dinner, and in bed by seven."

"That answers one of my questions." I watch and wait as she formulates the answer to the other.

"I tried to call you, but you weren't home, and you don't have your cell phone."

"I'm off-duty and I wasn't expecting anyone to be trying to find me."

"I wasn't expecting to try to find you either. But I've had a lot of time to think over the last couple of days, and I've sorted some things out." The bartender interrupts her to ask if she wants a drink. After she orders a Coke, she continues. "Since Coop's death, I've cut myself off from the few friends I do have, especially everyone at work. I don't want to get close to anyone, because it puts them on Jack's target list. I'd almost fooled myself about it lately--until he pulled his recent stunt."

I still have no idea what she's trying to say. "And?"

"I shouldn't let him do this to me."

A thousand smart-assed remarks come to mind, but I ignore them. "So you're going to live your life and damn the consequences?"

"I didn't say that. I'm still not sure I can have friends. Depends on which is stronger--me or my instant reflex survival instincts."

"My money's on you." She rewards me with another smile, but I'm still confused. "So you came here to tell me this?"

She's distracted for a moment as she pays the bartender when he brings her drink. "What? Oh, no. I figured I should start trying to beat down instinct, so I decided I needed to wish all my friends Merry Christmas. Leave it to John Grant to make it hard for me."

"Don't you like a challenge?" I ask with a grin.

She returns my smile. "Always."

"You really came down here just to wish me Merry Christmas?"

"Well, I managed to get everyone else on the phone, and I couldn't leave the list incomplete. It wouldn't give me the same sense of accomplishment unless I talked to *everyone*. So, Merry Christmas."

I don't quite understand how wishing everyone Merry Christmas helps her, but I understand enough not to ask. "Thanks. Merry Christmas to you too."

"Thanks." She stands up. "And now that I've done that, I have to get home. I'm almost as tired as Chloe was."

"You probably got less sleep than she did."

Sam nods. "I'm glad I had to track you down, though," she says with a smile. "It feels good to get out of the house, even if it's only for a few minutes." She turns to leave. "Enjoy the rest of your Christmas."

"You too." She gives a little wave as she walks away, and then she's gone. I turn back to my drink, but it's not as appealing as it was a few minutes ago. I set it aside in favor of the Coke Sam never touched. I have to smile as I replay her visit in my mind. Maybe, just maybe she'll be okay after all.

Thank God.

* * *

   [1]: mailto:betha@gwis2.circ.gwu.edu



End file.
